


Flight

by Mistflyer1102



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: First Meetings, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 07:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5657821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistflyer1102/pseuds/Mistflyer1102
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q honestly had just wanted to go home after his long work trip and <i>not</i> get into unnecessary drama over (accidentally!) switched bags.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_I never want to fly again once I return home._

Q gritted his teeth as he finally boarded the airplane at Logan International Airport, thinking that a first class seat definitely did not classify as an apology in being forced to the States for a conference that ended in stalemate. RiteTech, the occasional competitor to the company he worked for, Royal International Exports, had refused to negotiate further on a compromise over similar services and products. He glanced at his neighbor, a blond-haired man already sitting in the window seat, and made a noise of sorrow in the back of his throat once he saw the smashed mobile screen in the man’s hands. “That looks like it used to be a beautiful piece of tech,” he remarked, blinking when brilliantly blue eyes turned to him.

“Yes, and it saved my life,” the man said, turning the mobile over in his hand. He shrugged with an apologetic shoulder and said, “Unfortunately, I couldn’t catch the man who damaged it.” He nodded in Q’s direction as Q stuffed his black duffel into the overhead bin and said, “James Bond, you?”

“Ah, Q.” Q hadn’t anticipated that the rather nice looking man would take interest in him. He pulled out a bottle of sedatives and set them into the seat pocket in front of him. He didn’t miss the way Bond’s eyes followed the bottle before returning to him. “Business or pleasure?” he offered, hoping to distract Bond from the medication.

“Pleasure,” Bond said, looking him over once. “We had fun, didn’t we, Alec?” he said, leaning forward to look at the other blond man across the aisle.

“Indeed we did,” Alec said, offering an innocent smile. “Stayed in Boston, had a grand time looking at everything, especially the row of explosions down by the harbor.”

“Ah, I was in Worcester for a conference, but I heard about those. They’re still investigating the explosions, but I think it was written off as an industrial accident, or at least that’s what I heard,” Q said, sneaking another glance at the mobile. “You know, if you let me take a look at that mobile, I bet I could fix it. I work in IT, but I tinker in my spare time,” he tentatively offered after a moment, not stupid enough to miss the chance to do something he enjoyed while simultaneously distracting himself from takeoff and avoiding getting airsick.

He wondered if Bond realized how desperate he was, because the man wordlessly handed him the mobile. Q studied the device, rather aware that Alec was watching intently. He hadn’t had a chance to fix or play around with gadgets in weeks, due to the fact that he saved most of that for his time outside of his dull nine to five job in London, and the useless conference had eaten three weeks of his life.

“Since your mobile seems to be a similar model to mine,” he said, once he’d managed to regain his voice and retain his early dinner after takeoff, “I think I can pop the screen or at the very least replace the front half, especially since it’s not an Apple device. Unless you rather I didn’t?” he asked, coloring once he realized that he’d basically taken a stranger’s mobile and was now offering to take it apart.

To his surprise, Bond merely waved the unspoken apology off. “Please fix it, it’s less scolding that I have to receive later from the supplier,” he said, smirking once towards Alec before leaning forward, watching Q carefully. “May I watch?”

Q nodded; he wasn’t surprised, as mobiles carried personal data. “By all means,” he replied.

He ended up detailing the process to Bond, who seemed enraptured with the overall procedure. It was an accident really, but Q loved showing off and sharing his work with others, and it wasn’t often that he had an interested audience. Silently thankful that he’d thought to pack his small toolkit in hopes of working on something during the trip, he spent the first three hours carefully prying his phone cover off and replacing with Bond’s, easily covering up the patchwork on the phone with a bit of black polish. He only nearly dropped everything once during a patch of turbulence, but Bond steadied him with a surprisingly gentle hand.

“What is it that you do?” Bond asked quietly as Q put his tools away.

“Tinkering in my spare time, computer work as a job. I’m the chief in the IT Department of Royal International Exports. It’s not exciting, but it pays the bills,” Q said, glancing at Alec and lowering his voice when he realized that the other man was fast asleep, head leaning into the aisle a bit. “You?”

“Alec and I work as bodyguards at Universal Exports, we usually follow any administrators that leave the country. We were in the States for vacation this time, though,” Bond said, offering a half smile as Q stifled a yawn. “Maybe I should let you sleep,” he said as Q stood up and placed his toolkit back in the bag.

“I think I’ll doze, but thank you,” Q said, offering a shy smile as he buckled himself back in.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he definitely remembered waking up snuggled against Bond, who had casually rested his arm around Q’s shoulders and created a pocket of warmth that was the only reason Q hesitated before jerking away from Bond. “Oh God, I’m so sorry,” he said quickly, face burning when Bond opened a blue eye at him.

“Trust me, I have no complaints whatsoever,” Bond said, grinning as Q felt his face burn even more.

He was still embarrassed when they began to disembark, nearly dropping his duffel when trying to get Bond’s. He finally offered Bond the duffel, trying to maintain his composure as Bond smiled at him in a knowing way. “Is there any chance we can stay in touch?” Bond asked as he followed Q on the bridge and into the terminal. “I’d like to hear more about your abilities to fix things, maybe come if I need an assist or two,” he said, turning to face Q as they waited for Alec.

Q shrugged. “Perhaps not, I barely have time outside of work as it is,” he admitted, ducking his head as Bond glanced back at the bridge. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Bond.”

“Likewise.”

Q smiled once at Bond before turning to leave. _Don’t look back, don’t look back, he’s probably got a girlfriend and hitting on him will create more problems. It would be even more awkward if he and Alec were together,_ he tried to tell himself, already hating the sickening curl of regret in his gut. His mood continued to sink even as he collected his luggage and drove home, not bothering to pay attention to anything except the car in front of him and the direction home. He tried not to think of the cold, empty flat that awaited him near Hyde Park, of the meeting he would have to deal with tomorrow morning at Royal International.

* * *

 

It wasn’t until much later that evening that he opened his duffel to pull out all the assorted junk of souvenirs and tools, but he froze the moment he stared at the contents that were most definitely not his.

Several handguns, half-empty magazines, an empty but scratched leather case, two pairs of handcuffs, _another_ mobile with a smashed screen (and missing pieces), and an innocent looking USB drive shone in the light from Q’s bedroom lamps. Q gaped at the contents for a few minutes before he numbly spotted the ID tag. Frowning, he turned it over to read the owner’s name: _James A. Bond, Universal Exports._

“How the _fuck_ did he get this past security?” Q blurted out, staring at the contents.


	2. Chapter 2

“May I sit here?”

Q looked up from the book he’d been reading during his mid-morning break to see James Bond standing there with a slight smile. Wordlessly, Q gestured to the empty chair across the little café table he was sitting at, and then jumped when Bond neatly deposited a familiar black duffel onto the surface. “I was wondering where that went,” Q remarked carefully, putting his half-eaten muffin back on its plate as Bond sat down with a paper cup of coffee. “Looked like a fool in front of my supervisors this morning, as my reports were in that bag,” he added, reaching for the bag.

He jumped when Bond placed a hand on his end of the bag. “You and me both, I was verbally shredded for failing to return with my bag’s contents. My supervisor wasn't too pleased to find electronics and touristy knickknacks,” Bond said, mouth twitching slightly into a smile. “At least it wasn’t nearly as bad as Alec’s lecture, since my mobile appeared in good condition,” he added with a smirk, and Q ducked his head.

“That’s good to know, about the phone that is. I suspect you want your bag back?” Q guessed, raising an eyebrow as he laid the book open face down on the table.

“Yes, as soon as possible if it’s not too much trouble,” Bond replied, still looking cordial. Now that Q knew that Bond was a possible terrorist, he thought he could see through the man’s disguise. It wasn’t fair though, that the man was even more handsome once well rested from the flight. “You didn’t happen to look at the contents, did you?” Bond asked a moment later, leaning forward in curiosity.

_Shit._ “Ah, no, I didn’t. I didn’t open it when I saw your name on the tag,” Q lied, taking another bite of his muffin to have an excuse to look down. Then, without thinking, he blurted out, “But maybe I switched the bags on purpose, just to have a chance to see you again without having to ask.”

He grinned when Bond laughed, blue eyes crinkling as he leaned forward. “I’m flattered. And it saves me the trouble of trying to find you and have a good reason to talk to you,” Bond said, grinning as he gently wrapped Q’s hand in his own. “And don’t worry about the contents, there’s no contraband. Only sensitive materials related to my job,” Bond said, visibly relaxing as he squeezed Q’s hand once more before letting him go. “When do you think you can retrieve it?”

_Sensitive materials? What the hell do you get up to as a bodyguard?_ “After work, I have to go back in five minutes,” Q replied apologetically. He glanced at the clock and said, “Why don’t you meet me here at five, and then I’ll take you back to my place to retrieve the bag?” He almost gave into the temptation to ask Bond to dinner, but reminded himself about the weaponry and data. Only God really knew what Bond truly did for a living.

Bond nodded. “Sounds good. You don’t mind if I hold onto this until then?” he asked, gesturing to Q’s duffel.

_Yes, actually I do._ “Nope, by all means, go ahead,” Q said, offering what he hoped was a sincere smile that would conceal the disappointment in his chest. In another life, perhaps, he and Bond could have been friends and lovers. “I will see you at five, then,” he said, closing his book before he stood up and gathered his belongings. He nodded once to Bond before snatching the rest of his muffin, stuffing it into his mouth as he tried not to panic _—how the fuck did he find out where I would be?_

Q made a mental note to change his routine tomorrow. And move to a new flat as soon as humanly possible.

True to his word, Bond waited patiently next to the café when Q arrived at five in the afternoon on the dot. He had Q’s duffel, and Q grinned when Bond gestured to a nearby car. “Want me to drive?” Bond offered, nodding to the sleek Aston Martin at the curbside.

“That’s a gorgeous car,” Q admitted, staring at the vehicle.

Bond smirked. “I happen to like gorgeous cars, and usually drive gorgeous people in it,” he said, grinning as he leaned down and kissed Q lightly on the cheek. “Perhaps we can see each other more regularly after this?” he asked as he tossed Q’s bag into the boot and headed for the driver’s side.

Q slid into the passenger seat, face still pink. He buckled himself in as Bond started the car. “I don’t know… I don’t want to, erm, interrupt anything you might have with anyone,” he said, turning to look out his window as Bond smoothly guided the car into traffic.

“What if I said there wasn’t anyone?” Bond asked, glancing at him hopefully.

“Not even Alec?” Q said without thinking, palming his forehead a second later.

“Not even Alec,” Bond confirmed, hand casually resting near Q’s thigh. “In fact, we could even go to dinner after we switch bags again,” he suggested, never looking away from the road as he spoke. He leaned over at the stoplight and whispered, “I know quite a few good restaurants around here, just tell me what you’re in the mood for and we’ll check it out.”

“Um, I may have to take a rain check on that, I have work to finish tonight,” Q said apologetically, twisting his cardigan hem until Bond finally reached over and took one hand in his. “I’m sorry, it’s been a long day and my supervisors were frustrated with the outcome of my trip to the States.”

“Don’t worry, I understand that feeling all too well,” Bond said, squeezing his hand before letting go. “Now where do you live?”

Q gave him the address. “Were your supervisors too upset about the missing bag?” he asked worriedly as Bond took a few more sharp turns before finally arriving to Q’s building, parking neatly between two haphazardly parked cars in the little car park that only had five slots for fifteen residents.

“A bit, but I told them I could bring it in tomorrow,” Bond assured him as he turned the car off. “Would you like to lead the way?”

“Of course.”

Q checked his watch as he got out of the car, and realizing that he still had a few minutes, wondered how the hell he was going to stall. He genuinely liked Bond, which he suspected was the problem, but the weaponry had been enough to outfit a discreet assassination squad. _I like him, but I can’t put others at risk by not doing anything_ , he thought morosely as he climbed the stairs to his little flat, Bond hovering close behind with the bag. He glanced back at Bond with a smile when he felt Bond squeeze his shoulder gently. “I’m sorry for the state of my flat,” he said as he approached his door and unlocked it.

“Not a problem.” Bond followed Q into the flat before turning him around so that they faced each other. “Q, is everything all right? You seem…upset almost,” he said, frowning as he studied Q. “Definitely more upset than when we met in the café, did someone give you a hard time about…?” he let the question trail off as he set Q’s bag down next to the door.

“What? No, oh no, just something that came up during the day,” Q said, nodding to the bag sitting on the bureau near the window. “Is that yours?”

“Let me see.” He watched as Bond crossed the flat and unzipped the bag, sifting through the contents before zipping it back up again. “Indeed it is,” he said finally, pulling out a pen and jotting something down on a business card. “Please call me, so that we can set up our dinner date, or talk if that’s what you want,” he said quietly as he picked up the bag and returned to Q, pressing the business card into his hand. Q saw the worry in Bond’s eyes right before Bond leaned forward for a gentle kiss, one that Q gently reciprocated, his fingers tightening in Bond’s sleeve for a few suspended moments.

_Knock, knock!_

“Oh, um, I’ll get that,” Q said, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt like. He turned to the door and opened it, blinking when he saw three men and one woman standing there, all wearing matching uniforms. “Yes, can I help you?” he asked after a moment, not missing the way Bond tensed in the corner of his eye.

The woman held up a badge. “Agent Kelly Westford, of MI5. Are you Alexander Winfield?” she asked, raising an eyebrow when she glanced over Q’s shoulder.

“Erm, yes. I am, I am the one who called,” Q said, resisting the urge to panic as he turned to Bond, whose expression was one of confusion, suspicion, and surprise. “Um, he’s the one I was telling you about,” he mumbled, suddenly unable to look Bond in the eye as he shuffled back to let the MI5 team inside. “As I said on the phone, his name is James Bond,” he added, perhaps unnecessarily as Westford waved a vague hand of dismissal.

“Is that so?” Westford walked into the flat, turning to face Bond, whose expression shifted to one of annoyance. “Mr. Bond, I ask that you drop the bag right now and come with us quietly. All attempts at resistance will be met with force,” she said, smirking as Bond offered a tight smile, his eyes sliding to the three men behind her, one of whom had discreetly moved to stand in front of Q.

“May I ask under what charges you are arresting me for?” he asked mildly, studying each individual in turn. Q’s guard coughed, but Q frowned when he saw that the man was trying not to smile. _What the hell?_

“Treason, sabotage, possible murder if we find the bodies on which the alleged weaponry were used,” Westford said, glancing at the duffel bag near Bond’s feet.

Wordlessly, Bond held his wrists out, allowing the two men to step forward and place handcuffs on. “So, you called them during work then? Is that why you were upset earlier?” Bond whispered as the men tightened the cuffs. He didn’t even seem angry, impressed really, but he growled when one of the men opened his suit jacket to expose a shoulder holster that carried a handgun, which the man took out.

“I’m sorry, I panicked when I saw the guns and yes I lied to you about looking in the bag,” Q whispered even as his guard nudged him backwards. “I only decided to call for help when I saw that the data you had was top secret stuff that had to do with—”

“You hacked into that data? I was under the assumption that it was under heavy encryption,” Bond interrupted, frowning slightly.

“Oh, it was difficult, but I couldn’t sleep at first the first night home, so I just started the decryptions, and they ran all night,” Q said, shrinking back against the wall as the MI5 agents finished disarming Bond and pushed him to the front door. “I’m sorry, I—”

“No, no, don't be. I’m actually quite impressed,” Bond said, the easy smirk returning for a brief second. “But we can always talk about it another time, I suppose. I’m not going to be in prison forever,” he said, half in jest, half in warning. Q swallowed but remained silent as the agents ushered Bond out of the flat, and Q’s guard followed with Bond’s duffel.

“We’ll be in touch,” Westford said, smiling before she left the flat as well, the door closing with a snap behind her.

Q stared at the door for a moment. _Well, fuck, I’m definitely moving then._


	3. Chapter 3

“All right, everyone! Have a good weekend!”

“That makes one of us,” Q muttered as he gathered his belongings from his desk, a small ball of nausea forming in the pit of his stomach at the thought of going back to his flat. MI5 had arrested Bond three days ago, but Q had stayed at a hotel since then while looking for a new flat, still utterly unnerved at the lack of true anger on Bond’s part. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he checked his wallet as he left Royal International headquarters, wondering if he could manage to stretch his funds for a few more nights.

_Thump!_

“Oh, shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to—” Q’s voice died when he looked up into the familiar green eyes of Alec Trevelyan, the other man dressed in a heavy overcoat with his hands jammed into the pockets. “Oh _shit_ , shit, _fuck,_ ” Q whispered as he began retreating from Alec. “I forgot you were with him on the plane, you probably knew what was in that fucking bag…”

“Good, we don’t have to play guessing games about what you do and don’t remember,” Alec said, still smiling as he began to approach, matching Q step for step. “Even more importantly, you know part of the reason why I’m here,” he added, not bothering to run when Q increased his pace a bit, trying not to slip on the wet pavement. “Because while it is one _hell_ of a feat to pull the hood over James _and_ get him arrested, it’s also interesting that you hacked into the data. Secret information that the programmers _promised_ to heavily encrypt for my supervisors,” he said, still smiling even though a gleam appeared in his eye. “They weren’t too pleased to know that a hacker still got ahold of it just because there was an accident on the plane.”

“Wait, how the fuck did you know that I got into the data? Only the MI5 team and James knew that!” Q blurted out, stumbling slightly as he nearly collided with a few pedestrians. He didn’t dare turn his back to Alec.

“James told me as did Agent Westford,” Alec said, not at all hurried as Q continued backpedaling. “See, as members of the intelligence community, we’re all frenemies,” he explained, never breaking eye contact with Q. “My boss, who also happens to be the director of Section Six, let James sit in prison overnight and well into the next day, she was _furious_. The she had James explain everything that led up to his arrest in front of both MI5 and MI6 administrators in the afternoon. It was actually quite entertaining to watch, if I’m completely honest. Especially since they weren’t yelling at me about the explosions in Boston anymore,” he said, stopping on the sidewalk, not bothering to chase Q anymore. Q frowned, tripping on uneven pavement as he retreated. _What is he playing at now?_

_Whump!_

Q squeaked right as the solid weight behind him immediately reached around, bracing him before propping him up on his feet again. He twisted around while taking a few steps back and dropping his bag in the process, swallowing when he met Bond’s familiar blue eyes. “Told you we’d talk again soon,” Bond said, inclining his head before looking up past Q’s shoulder to Alec. “And I told _you_ that he’s an open book, there’s no way he could have planned the theft ahead of time,” he snapped, ignoring the way Alec bristled. “I told you and Major Boothroyd that you weren’t going to find any ill intent when Boothroyd was combing every fucking camera to make sure it wasn’t sabotage.”

“Well, no offense, James, but your intuition over who is safe or not can be a bit faulty at times, like the rest of us. Mistakes happen. It’s like Major Boothroyd said. _It’s just a bloody precaution_ ,” Alec countered as he knelt to pick up the dropped bag. Q glanced back at Bond in time to see the other man glance to his left, scowling at something Q couldn’t see.

_Now._

Q pulled off his parka, throwing it at Bond’s face to distract the other man.. He accidentally tripped over Alec in his scramble to escape, sending the blond man to the ground as Bond lunged forward, his fingertips grazing the edge of Q’s cardigan collar as Q sprinted down the sidewalk. Somehow, he knew, there was no hope of escape despite the burst of energy, so he did not cry out when Bond finally caught up to him and wrapped an arm around his waist before his lungs had a chance to burn. “Oh God, please, please, please just let me go, I promise I’ll stay out of trouble,” Q pleaded as he slipped and Bond caught him before he could fall on his face on the pavement.

“Q, listen to me. I’m not angry at you, I don’t _want_ to do anything to you, but I will if you force me to. Listen.” He turned Q around and framed Q’s face with his hands. “I work for MI6, foreign secret intelligence. Alec and I both do,” he said quietly, bowing his head so that their foreheads were nearly touching, their breathing nearly in sync as Q tried to regain back his breath. “The switch of our bags was a genuine accident, and it was all a misunderstanding. Universal Exports is the civilian front we present in order when legality becomes a factor in our overseas dealings. We don’t actually do any shipping, but present the tax forms to say we did,” Bond replied, looking a bit relieved when Q slowly relaxed, but was still unable to completely remain calm; he still had no idea exactly what it was that Bond did for MI6.

“That includes flying to and from missions,” Bond said after a moment, never once breaking eye contact with Q.

Q stared at him, mouth going dry as he abruptly recalled the news when he’d been leaving the States. “The explosions from the harbor…you made those,” he whispered, gently clasping Bond’s wrists to support himself.

“To be fair, Alec helped. The hand-off between us and the FBI was supposed to be a secret, but someone talked and we were ambushed,” Bond said, raising an eyebrow. “Will you stay if I let go? I promise you’re not under arrest. I know you have no reason to trust us, but at least hear me out.”

Q hesitated, but then reluctantly nodded, accepting the parka from Bond and slipping it back on. “Then… then all those weapons…” he began slowly.

“Both Alec and I have licenses to use the weaponry that you found, Five only went through with the arrest to ease your worries. And to have something to rub in M’s face later, but Falsworth didn’t say as much. He just kept making constant snide comments throughout the entire meeting I had to sit through the day after I was arrested,” he explained as Alec approached from behind with Q’s bag.

“His face said the rest. M is still fuming about that even now, according to Tess,” Alec warned as he handed the bag back to Q. He tilted his head and said, “We should head back soon, if we’re going to take Q in as M requested. There’s a few Section Five agents hanging around nearby, I think they’ve timed Q on his route and will be expecting him to walk around that corner any minute now. We know though, that they’re just as interested in him as we are.”

Bond looked back at Q. “M, my boss, she’s interested in meeting you personally. Just to talk, nothing else. I can take you home after,” he said, a faint ghost of a smile crossing his face. “I’ll even throw in a few drinks at my flat some other evening, you’ll need it after dealing with M. She may be interested in how you managed to get me arrested and decrypt the information, but she can also drive you mad,” he said, tucking his hands into his pockets. He paused, and then said, “I promise no harm will come to you. Just say the word and I’ll pull you out regardless of what M wants.”

Q silently regarded Bond, tempted but at the same time still wary. He glanced at Alec, who remained expressionless, and then turned back to Bond. He hesitated, and then said, “Let’s see how this afternoon goes, I’m already tired as it is from my current job. Then I’ll let you know how I feel about drinks.”

Bond grinned. “It’s a deal,” he said, smirking before gently guiding Q back up the sidewalk. Q hesitated when he saw the black car idling at the curb, but then allowed Bond to continue guiding him.

_MI6 then? This will be an interesting evening._


End file.
